


On and Off

by 200percent_inlove



Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Crushes, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I'm so in love with the idea of clumsy Rim and protective Kook :3, Love, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200percent_inlove/pseuds/200percent_inlove
Summary: “Who in their right mind would believe you deliberately tripped to fall into Jung-Kook's lap?!”Or, when Kim Ye-Rim clumsily stumbles into the arms of the apple of her eye in front of thousands of people at the Seoul Music Awards. And automatically, she knows that she's fucked.





	On and Off

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I am the Queen of Getting-Distracted-By-Other-Head-Canons. LOL. 
> 
> This is inspired by a fancam that I saw from the SMAs this year, where Red Velvet were literally sprinting for their lives for backstage while passing by BTS' table (Tae and Kook bowing super robotically amused me to no end). LOL. 
> 
> Of course, Ye-Rim falling didn't actually occur (God forbid ><) - but that's what alternate universes are for, right? :D Hope you enjoy!

In her next life, Kim Ye-Rim vows that she won’t be an idol again.

Actually, never mind idol. Just not a public figure:  No models, no actresses. Nothing that forces her under microscopic scrutiny by the vicious public that ripped every single person to shreds for their own form of sick amusement.

Because she soon realizes, as a gruff, calloused hand grips her elbow and trembling wrist to break her fall, there’s nothing more disturbingly awkward than stumbling into the arms of the apple of her eye in front of tens – no, _thousands_ of people.

A sudden hush falls upon the crowd of twinkling orbs of light-pink and periwinkle-blue circling them; once upon a time (Or, around ten minutes ago), they were moving in perfect synchronization with the upbeat tempo from the last few performances. Now, they're completely immobile. The artists, once sitting idly, were now standing, looking bewildered as they stared – no, _gawked_ at her from afar.

Kang Daniel’s somewhere on the right, a hand clasped over his mouth. Her beloved Na-Yeon _unni_ is seated behind Wanna One’s table, internally debating whether to rush forward and help the young girl up or, better yet, not get involved.

_(Kind-hearted as she is, she picked the latter. Ye-Rim doesn’t blame her in the slightest.)_

Ye-Rim's cheeks flush a deep shade of red; she doesn’t know what’s worse:  The carpet burn that left her knees stinging, or the melodious, smooth tenor that intrudes her ringing ears several moments later.

“Oh. Oh, my God. Ye-Rimmie, a-are you okay?”

Jesus. Even in full-panic mode, he still sounds so _god-damningly_ adorable.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she grits her teeth against her lower lip and sighs. _Now is not the time to be appreciating his voice. Do that later in your spare time, Kim Ye-Rim!_

It’s her fault. It really is. Her stylist already expressed her concerns about wearing those three-inch stiletto boots, but of course, Ye-Rim wanted to show off her shapely calves that she’s been working out recently. She’s put in so much effort all for her comeback and for tonight, after all:  The numerous hours spent at the gym, the relentless crying when Seulgi sat on her back to help train her abdominal muscles. The least she could do was strut around in things that emphasized her greatest assets, right? Is there something wrong with that?

Well, apparently there is, especially if one was doing it for the sake of pure vanity and for leaving a lasting impression in the young mans’ eyes.

She scoffs. At least this accomplished something:  Nineteenish years lived on this Earth (Nearing twenty, if she makes it out alive tonight), and Kim Ye-Rim is already well-equipped with enough wisdom to pass on to her juniors. 

One, when the stylist recommends a pair of flat ankle boots that were just as (If not more) stylish, you don’t argue. You just agree and _take it_.

Two, when your leader calls out to warn you about that strange, raised bump hiding inconspicuously underneath the carpet, you _listen and avoid it_. Ignore the rapid thumping of your heart; ignore the fact that the one that you hold the deepest affections for is looking you up and down, nodding to convey his encouragement for your next performance; ignore the fact that he purposefully got up from his seat to bow respectfully to you like the humble _sunbae_ that he is. _Ignore, ignore, ignore_.

And third, if for some God-forsaken reason you really _can’t_ help but fall for someone (Because when you’re at that age, pent-up emotions and feelings of affection are perfectly normal), don’t ever develop a crush on the renowned ‘ _Golden Maknae_ ’ of a top-tier boy group.  

* * *

 

_Red Carpet._

Yoongi's fast asleep, as per usual. Ho-Seok’s eagerly anticipating a Kakao message from someone (Most probably Seung-Hwan); Tae-Hyung and Jimin are arguing next to him animatedly about which Persona 5 character was the best (“I’m telling you, Ann is the ideal girlfriend! She’s hot as shit!” versus “Buddy, your ranking is invalid if you don’t have Haru on there!”); narcissistic Kim Seokjin gazes admiringly at his blemish-free complexion through his selfie camera; Kim Nam-Joon mutters a few things in a low, muted voice to their manager.

And Jeon Jung-Kook's sitting in the backseat, completely silent. 

Yet another music award show. Yet another ill-fitting suit, scratching at the sides of his neck. Yet _another_ performance of IDOL. It’s not exactly his favourite comeback, truth be told; he much prefers simpler times with Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa and I Need U (Thigh-raising leather shorts aside), but nonetheless, there’s a certain _je ne sais quois_ about performing on home soil that he enjoys.

Maybe it’s the familiarity that brings him comfort: The same fans that pop up all over again, carrying creatively made signs while smiling at him proudly and cheering with gusto; actually _understanding_ what the emcee was saying for once without having to freeze up when interviewed by bodacious blondes and handsome brunettes; portraying confidence in his gait on the red carpet that clearly wasn’t feigned.

He inhales contentedly. Yes, indeed, Seoul is just that much better. 

Their van slows to a halt, and Nam-Joon tosses all of them a warm smile from shotgun. “Showtime, guys. Put your best foot forward.”

Yoongi startles to a sleepy wake, grumbling while itching his eye, “When do we _not_?”

“You’re clearly not,” Seokjin points out, much to Yoongi’s chagrin.

“Alrighty, alrighty. Pull it together!”

They all pour out, one by one with picture-perfect smiles set on their faces. He didn’t get it quite right during their first overseas appearance during the American Music Awards with English being flung and barked in all directions, leaving him a stumbling mess when Camilla Cabello (Bless that girl for being both attractive and kind) waved him hello, but practice makes perfect.

Smile and wave, smile and wave. Look sharp. Angle the jawline. Turn this way, then that way. The natural wind (Albeit chilling in the January winter) adds to the tousled, effortless look; he can literally hear Nam-Joon screaming at him to pose with it. It’s the same routine, over and over.

Well, _almost_ routine.

“Ye-Rim- _sshi_! Please, look this way!”

They’re there, standing in a neat row against the bright-pink background stamped with various company endorsers. Wendy is practically stunning in the black off-shoulder, as is Soo-Young in the short-sleeved A-Line dress that hugged her curves, emblazoned with white pearl décor. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?” He hears Seokjin murmur in awe.

“Wow, _hyung_. You’re complimenting someone other than yourself? I am so very impressed.”

“Shut your mouth.”

And Jung-Kook inevitably realizes why their stylist liked dressing Seulgi and Joo-Hyun _noona_ in white lace. Literals angels in the flesh.

“Hey, Jiminie- _hyung_.”

The older man is enraptured, eyes glistening as Seulgi briefly turns to acknowledge him with a passing nod. Damn, she’s smart:  She could totally play it off coolly as saying hello to her fans, or to yet another cameraman screaming her name (Was it that annoying reporter from Sports Chosun?). Times like these, she doesn’t dare do a full-on bow – and Jimin, while sometimes peeved, understands. He’ll have plenty of time to spare behind the scenes to hug her to his hearts’ content, anyway.  “What?”

“Do you ever wonder what she’d look like in a wedding dress?”

Jimin wastes no time in elbowing the youngest painfully in the ribs. “Dude. _I’m_ the one dating her, and even I haven’t thought about it yet.”

Jung-Kook smirks teasingly. “Sure, _hyung_ , sure. Just admit it:  You don’t want me checking out your girlfriend.”

“Oh, well now, isn’t that obvious?!”

“I hope you weren’t talking about Joo-Hyun- _noona_.” Tae-Hyung's voice whispers, latching a painful hand on Jung-Kook's shoulder.

The youngest only sighs, almost in an exorbitant, sarcastic manner that leaves the older man deadpanning at his method acting, putting his character in _‘Hwarang’_ to shame. “Oh, _hyung._ Little old me, talking badly about your betrothed? Why, I would never!”

“You’re going to keep that up, huh? I’ll break your Attack on Titan – “

The rest of Tae-Hyung's dangerous threat goes in one ear and quickly escapes into oblivion. And it’s clear to see why:  Kim Ye-Rim's smiling. No, not just smiling – she's smiling at _him_ , clad in a little black dress that matched her cute-as-a-button appearance so well. So very _Yeri_.  She has two hands clutching the hem of her dress to keep it from flipping upward, tittering cutely about something. Her nose scrunches, as do her eyes – God. So inexplicably cute. Jimin could never reach this level.

The shoes, he doesn’t appreciate as much, but it’s the cutting that makes his throat clench and knees buckling in weakness. Some might call it simplistic – too simplistic, actually, almost bordering on plain boring, but as most people say, it’s the person that makes the clothes work. Not the other way around.

And goodness gracious, she’s doing it justice, especially with her dark-brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Jung-Kook's lips unconsciously mouth, _she’s_ s _o pretty_.

Only for Jimin to whisper and knock him out of his daze, “I don’t think she’s smiling at you, Kook. Don’t get your hopes up.” What an asshole, exacting revenge like this. But maybe he’s right. If anything, she’s most likely giving her greetings to the crowd of kimchi dumpling lightsticks behind them.

The quintet hurriedly climbs off the platform to make way for the septet, and while Jung-Kook knows it’s precarious to steal another glance in front of such a humongous crowd, he simply can’t resist the temptation. Tilting his head towards the side, he watches intently as the girls bolt straight for backstage – Ye-Rim clumsier so; Seung-Hwan interlaces her fingers in between Ye-Rim's to help her remain afloat.

But just like that, a split second later, she too turns her body towards him and lets a knowing smile grace her feminine features before they’re ushered further inside by their frazzled manager. There’s no mistaking it now; that’s the kind of smile she reserved exclusively for him whenever they passed by one another in the hallways of Music Bank and _Inkigayo_.  The kind that flirted in a subdued, almost subtle way, and spoke of shy mutual attraction – so many hidden emotions concealed in just one grin.

His cheeks uplift in return, and Ho-Seok – eyes shifting suspiciously from the mysterious girl that had Jung-Kook in a doozy, and the smitten youngster – wonders for a moment whether Jung-Kook's dimples were going to implode. “You can’t say anything now, _hyung_! Did you see that? DID YOU?! She did smile at me!”

Through the blinding flashes from the DSLR cameras that follow them from platform to arena, Nam-Joon spares a comment, followed with a concerned glare. “Jung-Kook- _ah_ , if you smile anymore, I really think you’re going to burst at the seams and accidentally let slip to the world that you’re head over heels for Ye-Rim- _sshi_ during our potential speeches.”

“First, I don’t mean to be cocky,” Ho-Seok says this as unpretentiously as he can, but there’s no denying that hint of cockiness hiding in his question. “But I think an invitation to the awards show implicates some form of an award, don’t you think?“

“Seok. _Please,”_ Nam-Joon tuts, smacking him around the head gently. _“_ For the love of all things holy, be like Kendrick Lamar and stay humble.”

“In other words, behave.” Leave it to Yoongi to be characteristically blunt, but whether that was directed towards the happy-go-lucky rapper or the crazy glue that held them together, nobody knows. Probably both.

“I mean, Kookie does have a point,” Seokjin mutters under his breath as they hurriedly rush into their respective change rooms; Jung-Kook notes that Red Velvet’s – erupting with cheerful laughter – was located conveniently a few feet away. If he plays his cards right, he could at least catch her in the hallway while ‘going to the washroom’ and exchange a few words.

Hopefully, without stammering like a dumb fool, that is. 

“Sorry,” Jung-Kook says, falling out of his fantasy and back into reality. “I wasn’t listening, but I was aware that you were complimenting me about something.”

Seokjin frowns so often, you’d think his face would be riddled with wrinkles by now, but as exemplified by how durable and smooth his skin was still standing at twenty-six, it’s clear that the universe really doesn’t want him to age. “ _Of course_ , you weren’t. _Aish_. You and your selective hearing.”

“What’d you say?”

“I was saying, they all looked really good today.” He protrudes his lips outward for better access for his make-up artist, then says, “Soo-Youngie especially, my goodness. She’s been doing – “ A brief pause. He’s struggling in finding the right word to say. “ _Something_ right in the past few months while we were away.”

“I would like to agree,” Jung-Kook adds under his breath as his regular artist squeezes a dab of concealer onto his bulging pimple. “But let’s be real.”

“What?”

A laugh rings throughout the air, clear as day; Seokjin- _hyung_ really is so oblivious. “Ye-Rim looked _so_ much better.” 

Correction:  Indeed, Seoul is definitely much better – but only when she’s there.

 

* * *

_Backstage. I._

  
Ye-Rim caught him staring. Of course, she did. Fleeting gazes, sudden turns of the head, only to flush red soon after.  As much as Jeon Jung-Kook claims to keep his personal life under wraps, he really isn’t as sly as he thinks:  He slips up much so often – too often to the point that Ye-Rim sometimes wonders if his fans were seriously turning a blind eye, or just weren’t observant.

If the latter, well, those fancy DSLR cameras they were juggling in their arms weren’t certainly good for anything else other than making handmade photo cards now, huh?

See, the thing is, many people may consider her an airhead based on the particular persona she crafted specifically for variety shows:  Heedless, unmindful, full of sass and spunk. The latter part holds true, of course, but...

How wrong they are to take her as some ignorant fool.

Ye-Rim remembers it well. It was Music Bank in Singapore several years ago, where Seulgi had excitedly told _everyone_ within earshot that the fuse of first love was finally lit, and quote-unquote, _“God, the subsequent smoke is thick”_. Whatever the hell that meant – Ye-Rim doesn’t quite understand her metaphors sometimes, but she alluded that her _unnis_ ’ flowery language was probably related to their childish game of chase.

Ye-Rim purely saw it as a joke. Well, at _first_ she did:  A playful pursuit between the two youngest – most possibly out of boredom from performing Fire and Red Flavour for the umpteenth time that year. Nothing special.

But then came the award ceremonies. The _Gayo Daejuns_.  And more hiccoughs that filled Ye-Rim to the brim with suspicion:  Jung-Kook just couldn’t keep his eyes away, a light illuminating in his warm brown orbs as they flickered briefly from her to the ARMY Bombs before them. The way he chivalrously raised an arm to let her and Joo-Hyun- _unni_ pass first before he descended the stairs; she remembers so clearly that he couldn’t _look_ at her straight, even when she deliberately went out of her way backstage to thank him.

Dear God. Really, how many times _were_ there?

The numbers, she’s not clear. What is though, is the fact that she wasn’t the least bit surprised when she bit into one of those disgusting _Inkigayo_ sandwiches and found a piece of paper stuck between her teeth during their Power Up promotions. He rendered her speechless momentarily; it’s not a joke, anymore.

Jeon Jung-Kook really mustered up all his bravery to hide his phone number within those slices of bread - pun intended.

Seung-Hwan scoffs. “How pathetic.”

Pathetically endearing, that is.

And thus, began what Ye-Rim likes to call a cycle of talk-and-text. Miles apart, separated by the Pacific Ocean, and he still finds the time to send her humorous memes regarding bubble tea and locations for new hipster coffee shops on the daily. She sends him pictures of scenery she finds pretty, never one of herself; she’s much too tentative for things like that.

Pictures eventually transition into _‘How’s-Your-Day'_ s’ and _‘Let’s hang out soon’_ s’, and no doubt about it, Ye-Rim soon became constantly glued to her phone.

Talk-and-text. Talk-and-text. She appreciates their newfound friendship, his advice and his awkward humour – as does he with her forthright personality and give-no-shits-for-consequences attitude.

But often times, she questions whether they were _ever_ going to progress from making fun of milk tea drinkers to...something else.

Ye-Rim hates to be demanding, but she’s not just an idol:  She’s a girl, too. And as a girl, she's not ashamed to admit that the stagnation drives her insane. _What are we? Where are we going with this?_ She can’t recall how many times she’s typed this message, only to rapidly delete it and then bury her face in her pillow almost in embarrassment. This is dangerous territory her heart’s trekking in right now; did he share the same sentiments as her?

And so, that’s where they’re at now. Still perpetually sending knowing looks to one another whenever they stood close, with Jung-Kook itching to hold her hand for _once_. Still exchanging barely a few words in the empty halls when they both ‘use the bathroom’, with Ye-Rim wondering briefly why his lips suddenly look so supple and pink and kissable.

 _(Wait, kissable?!)_           

 _From:  JJK_  
_Sent At:  6:24 P.M._

_Washroom break._

Her hand’s already twisting the doorknob open when her stylist screams shrilly, “Ye-Rimmie, where _exactly_ are you going? You still need to do your hair touch-ups!”

Pocketing her phone, she hurriedly announces, “To the washroom!”

And out she is in the crowded hallway, feeling like a young, pubescent high schooler all over again, where she once nursed a short-lived crush on that cute senior that had dropped out of his company prior to debut to work a regular blue-collar job.

Does she spot him first? Or does he? Or, maybe both? They both simultaneously let out a surprised “Oh!” amongst the flurry of people blocking their way. And almost unconsciously, her tongue runs across her lower lip. Oh, dear Lord; it’s not in her intention to behave so crass, but how can she resist when Jeon Jung-Kook looks so impeccably dashing?

She can’t lie; he’s always, always, _always_ so stylish. Running a hand through his hair, spreading it everywhere. Even with this messy get-up, he still looks like he just stepped out of a magazine spread. She bows lowly while clutching her chest. “Hello there. What a – “

“Fancy coincidence.” He finishes.

_(Oh, there’s nothing coincidental about this whatsoever.)_

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you earlier during the red carpet,” she says. “But I’m glad to see that you look well.”

“Look at you, you poor thing,” Jung-Kook croons softly, lifting his hand into the air – only to clench into a fist after he realized what the hell he was doing. He’s not going to pinch her nose in public, no matter how inviting the thought was. “Weren’t you cold? Your nose is all red.”

A little flirting here and there won’t hurt. “So, you were watching me, weren’t you?”

“Well, I won’t say that I don’t.” Oh, her heart. How does her damned heart take this? “After all,” His gaze follows her from the heeled boots that she specifically selected for the performance and then to the lace sleeves hugging her upper arms tightly. “I’d notice in a heartbeat when you changed your dress.”

“Ah. Yeah.” The dress suddenly feels stuffy; turning unbearably shy, she says with a stilted laugh, “I mean, I’d drop dead if I had to wear that sleeveless thing any longer.”

“It brings out your eyes, though.” Really? Did he just say that? Not that any type of compliment from Jung-Kook wasn’t welcome, though. “But anyway.” Again, with that hand running through his hair: Didn’t Soo-Young once mention something in passing that it was a key sign of interest in terms of male body language? The very thought sends blood pooling into her cheeks.

“It really is nice to see you.” He sounds so earnest; she loves it. “We have yet to hang out. I want to get the first sneak preview of your SM Station solo.”

Oh, my God. He remembered. He must have dozens of things on his mind:  Complex choreographies, the stress of solo performances and lyrics that Jung-Kook had to memorize for their tour, and he still remembered Dear Diary.

“I’m sorry to say.” Her voice conceals no remorse. “My members already got their one-minute teaser first. You’re probably the fifth one.”

Jung-Kook feigns a half-hearted sigh. Placing one hand on his hip, the other forcefully flicks a finger at her forehead. “ _Aish_ , this girl! I refuse any place other than first!”

“ _Yah_! At least it’s close enough!”

Times like these – where they’re playing in such a carefree manner, toying and teasing one another so coquettishly – Ye-Rim secretly wonders whether alternative universes were possible. Maybe a world where they both weren’t idols, but regular high school students, eating ice-cream on lazy Summer days and walking hand-in-hand around _Hongdae_ during their days off. But even there, she knows that Jung-Kook's undeniable talent would catch the eyes of recruiters eventually. It shouldn’t be contained and restricted to just himself; it wouldn’t be fair to the world. So, maybe they are both idols – just that their fans would be more lenient and understanding when it came to dating matters.

A pleasant fantasy, no matter how far-fetched.

Just then, a commanding, leader-like voice (A huge contrast compared to her own soft-spoken Bae leader) hollers out, “Oy, Jung-Kook- _ah_! C’mon, we’re leaving!” Jung-Kook's friendly smile disappears into a thin line, his eyes rolling back so far that she could see the whites.

Someone doesn’t want to leave. But then again, she doesn’t want him to, either.

“Ah, hello, Ye-Rim- _sshi_.”

 Their five minutes are up. Apprehensive, Ye-Rim reverts back to her shy self when the remaining members start to hover around him in a protective circle. If she had her members there, things would be so much easier. Seulgi and Seung-Hwan would probably break the ice, and she’d follow suit. She’s bubbly – but only to a degree. She’s not exactly friends with the rest of them yet.

“Hello.” Ugh, how incredibly awkward. “And um, good-bye for now. Good luck tonight! I’m rooting for you all!”

Turning her attention back to the wide-eyed _maknae_ , she smiles. “I guess, um, I’ll see you later.” Her hands form into tiny, encouraging fists that he pounds in return, leaving behind a trail of transient sparks that shoot up her arm and leaves her nerves aflutter. “I hope you win lots today, Jung-Kook- _oppa_ , but I mean, knowing you, of course, you will!”

Spinning around in a hurry, Ye-Rim scampers off back to Red Velvet’s box of solitude – only to whirl around when she hears Jung-Kook's voice call out, “You look good in lace, Ye-Rimmie. _Really_.” 

* * *

 

_Interlude. Or, The Fall._

  
Often times, Jimin’s a piece of shit. 

“Our little boy is so in love.”

No. Make that _all the god damn time_.

“A literal deer in headlights.”

So is Tae-Hyung.

“I am not.”

And Jung-Kook's a terrible liar. He’s such an open book, especially with the way his eyes sparkle whenever she was displayed on the screen, reacting to the special performances with exuberant enthusiasm and clapping for each groups’ respective win. Of course, he doesn’t exactly _like_ their seating arrangement: They’re sharing a table with their fellow labelmates, NCT, with a certain ethereal-looking vampire (Now with light-pink fluff styled perfectly like wispy cotton candy on his head and an exquisitely angular jawline that put Jimin’s to shame) seated beside her.

The older man kept on whispering things in Ye-Rim's ear, damnit, making her giggle and eyes squint into half-moons. The jealousy is unjustified; after all, she’s been entwined in so many rumours with Tae-Yong in the past, only to laugh it off as a joke, and when he questioned it (Casually, of course, not interrogatively), she confirmed that they had nothing special going on.

 _From:  KYR_  
_Sent At:  11:06 P.M._

_Juuuust friends. Fans can lose their shit and curse me out all they want. I’m used to it._

She dismisses this, but Jung-Kook found it somewhat concerning.

_But, look at it this way, Jung-Kook-oppa. Why do I need to apologize and hide for something that isn’t happening? I’ve got nothing to fear._

Still, the discomforting twinge he’s feeling isn’t helping the situation at all.

But then, he’ll notice her sending him secretive thumbs-ups from a few tables away. Once, during GFRIEND’s dance spectacle. Twice, when SEVENTEEN were accepting their award. And thrice. Oh, to hell with counting. What did matter was that automatically – magically, almost – he'll return to his regular self again.

An hourly dose of Kim Ye-Rim worked better to get him back on track than any painkiller known to mankind.

It’s strange.

Sometimes, Jung-Kook wonders whether she practiced witchcraft, and had left him bewitched in some way. Because it’s merely impossible how, amongst so many idols and the prospective trainees that would throw themselves boldly at his members (And in particular, him), she’s the one that catches his eye straight away:  Shining brighter than any shooting star Jung-Kook has wished upon – which, to be fair, only amounted to a measly two.

_(But that’s irrelevant.)_

The mysterious emotion known as infatuation kind of hit Jung-Kook unexpectedly. Out of nowhere, like a sudden tidal wave. Well, that’s what he _likes_ to say to sound cheesy and romantic. Tae-Hyung knows:  The youngest kept staring, starstruck, at the vivacious blonde several years ago.

And everything just kept tumbling down from there, in the form of hushed compliments in crowded hallways, disgusting sandwiches (Dear _God_ , please don't let her swallow the piece of paper in one big bite, he prayed) and snarky text messages.

In short, Jung-Kook didn’t just appreciate her on the outside; he enjoyed her personality just as much – if not more. He knows its cliché to say this, but she’s...she’s just different. She actually _cares_.

Like how she always seemed to have his tour dates memorized, sending timely messages full of encouragement and for him to _‘eat well, rest well’_. Or, how she was _miraculously_ alerted about his injury during one of their London stops, and – In the middle of the night, mind you – sent him a voice recording, telling him not to be so hard on himself. She couldn’t stifle her fatigued yawn at the end, but it was right then and there that Jung-Kook realized he hit the jackpot. 

Nam-Joon has said before:  What the heart stubbornly wants, the heart will get.

And for Jung-Kook, Kim Ye-Rim was exactly _that_. 

But, he grimaces as he drums his fingers against the rough tablecloth, he knows that texting can only do so much. She’s getting restless; he can tell in the way that she hesitantly types her messages, only for the bubble to disappear soon after. It shows, in the way that she calls out to him sometimes – anticipatory and hopeful, only for her to exhale in disappointment when he chickens out and pats her on the shoulder instead.

God. This balancing act between idol and human is simply too cruel.

But still. That’ s not a valid excuse to keep her hanging like that stick figure in a game of Hangman. If his Jimin- _hyung_ managed to work out the numerous kinks with Seulgi (For a whole year, too!), then why couldn’t he? Why he’s been this hesitant, he’s not too sure, but Jung-Kook's not going to back down this time.

He grits his teeth together determinedly. Yes, tonight:  He’ll tell her; he’ll tell her exactly what she wants to hear when they’re still on their breaks and before they jump onto planes again for God knows how long. 

That’s what she deserves, at the very least.

“Hey.”

Jung-Kook snaps his head towards Tae-Hyung. “What?”

“I think they’re getting ready to perform.”

One of the uniformed staff members whispers something to Joo-Hyun, and they’re all suddenly making a dash for backstage. Tumbling one by one, with Park Soo-Young first. Seokjin’s neutral expression deepens into a full-on frown. God, the hem of the dress just barely reached her upper thigh – how is she even comfortable dancing in that get-up later on?

“Hello!” She chirps, increasing her pace. Seokjin’s gaze continues to bore into her back, nearly hyperventilating when the fabric started to ride up. 

“Do you think she has safety shorts on?” He questions demandingly afterward, pounding a clenched fist against the table.

“Jesus, _hyung,”_ Ho-Seok groans, rubbing his erratically racing chest to soothe his poor heart. “Please don’t do that. I don’t have that much blood to spare.”

“Probably.” Nam-Joon's not really helpful in this regard. He’s an excellent leader, no doubt about it, but he should really leave the romantic affairs alone.

“I should hope so.” But Seokjin can’t relax. Not at all.

Next, Bae Joo-Hyun, dressed smartly in a sleek-looking all-black suit with a long ponytail cascading down her back, rushes towards them. Tae-Hyung's back stiffens, straight as a board, when she passes by – Jung-Kook notes that her pace seems to slow down for a brief second, but her face shows passiveness, betraying nothing. Ever the professional. Her thin hands are hovering near her ears to ensure that the sparkly diamonds she was donning were still in place. 

“Hi there,” She murmurs with a fleeting smile that disappears as quickly as it comes. Tae-Hyung doesn’t react, even though he dearly wanted to say something back. Like, ‘I like your necklace’ or ‘That cutting suits you beautifully’. His lips part, but Joo-Hyun's expectant gaze holds him back. Defeated and annoyed with himself, he muses he’ll do it later. If there was a chance later.

Seung-Hwan's choice of attire is rather...questionable. Especially the top with its patterned cut-outs in the back. It’s something that Nam-Joon would describe as discreetly sexy, and when paired with that shoulder-length bob? Jung-Kook can only whistle, because God _damn,_ that shoulder-length bob is doing her wonders. 

But seriously though, what’s the point of wearing something that highlights her well-developed musculature when she’s just going to hide it underneath that blazer?!

“I think just the shirt would’ve been fine,” Jung-Kook hears Ho-Seok complain in a quiet grumble.

“You don’t say – ? OW. _Hyung_!”

“Don’t be rude.” He’s Mr. Dimpled-Smiles all over again when Seung-Hwan waves at their table. Mr. Dimpled-Smiles with a Ms. Ball-of-Sunshine. Yeah, Jung-Kook totally sees this happening.

“Should I start working out some more?”

Yoongi shakes his head curtly. “Nah. Let Seung-Hwan be the one to hoist you on your wedding day.”

Out of all the Red Velvet members – with Ye-Rim being an exception – Jung-Kook liked Kang Seulgi the best. She’s dating Jimin, anyway; anybody who could stand his pest of a _hyung_ was automatically deemed God in his book. The thigh-high boots seem to elongate her legs to an incredible degree, and with the black fabric billowing out from behind her as she ran, Jimin couldn’t help but gnaw on his younger lip in a hungry - dare Jung-Kook admit it, somewhat creepy, too? - manner. Anything she wears, he’ll automatically like.

“ _Damn_. Batgirl in the flesh.”

To which Seulgi only hisses through a friendly smile, “Not _now_.”

And last but not least, with Jung-Kook's heart hammering in his chest, Kim Ye-Rim comes, hurtling forward. She has a hand on her waist, the other attempting to smooth out the ruffled wrinkles in her skirt.

“Ye-Rim, let’s hurry!”

“I um,” The younger girl snaps, irritated. Jung-Kook's never seen her irate before, but there’s something uncannily cute about it – sort of like watching a puppy get frustrated. “I’m trying! Gosh, this dress – ”

“Oh,” Joo-Hyun's warning suddenly pierces through the air as she looks back at the youngest with worried eyes. “Ye-Rim- _ah_ , watch out for the – !”

It happens all too fast for Jung-Kook to comprehend.

One moment, he has his gaze locked on her once again – and all traces of exasperation melts away, replaced with a modest smile.

And the next, he watches in alarm as the girl oversteps _something_ in the carpet. A raised bump, an unnoticed rip, maybe? He doesn’t know. A harsh _crack_ ignites through the air, startling the dear life out of everyone sitting within their proximity, and Ye-Rim's body starts to spin uncontrollably like a spinning top. 

Jesus, Ye-Rim and heels just aren’t a match made in heaven.

“Oh. **_Oh, SHIT_**.”

Fortunately, Ye-Rim's fall is cushioned.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t an overly muscular pillow that broke her fall.

He’s stunned.

She’s embarrassed. No, not powerful enough. _Mortified_.

Her arms are slumped over his thighs like a ragdoll; her face hovering precariously close to his lap. And the angle of their positioning when observed from afar, well, let’s just say that it can trigger some inappropriate thoughts. 

God. This is an absolute _nightmare_.

“Oh.” Jung-Kook sounds squeaky, high-pitched. A loud exhale escapes his lungs, and he instinctively wraps one hand around her wrist, the other on her exposed elbow. She can’t stand; she’s lost all feeling in the bottom half of her body. “Oh, my God. Ye-Rimmie, a-are you okay?”

“I um – “ Seulgi’s hovering around her now, panicked. She’s trying to get Ye-Rim back on her feet once more – or at least, away from Jung-Kook, but she feels _so_ incredibly heavy with so many eyes on them – on _her_.

Shit. SM Town, _please_ come through and save her.

“C’mon, Rim. Let’s get you out of here.” 

With a semblance of dignity still intact, Ye-Rim hastily removes the boots from her feet, putting a _chibi_ version of Sailor Venus on full display. Once she gets up – albeit shakily so, with her knees trembling and bruised from impact – she bows towards the crowd in shame. Ninety degrees and all. Tears are threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes.

“I am. ** _So._** Sorry.”

And with Seulgi in tow, they’re running backstage to escape the inevitable wrath.

BTS and Red Velvet have attended ISAC together previously, but that was probably the first time in his entire life that he’s seen her run _that_ quickly. There's a loud buzzing echoing in his ear:  The spectators were discussing the incident that had just happened ( _“Did you catch that?”_ , _“Got it on fancam!”_ and _“Ugh, that bitch”_ ).

Fuck. Just hearing that already pisses him off to the ends of the Earth. _Seriously_? They’re labeling her with derogatory labels, just for something like this? It was an accident, plain as day. It wasn’t deliberately planned. They just couldn’t see it.

Or, as five years of industry experience taught him, they refused to see it. Lacked common sense.

It isn’t until Nam-Joon calls out to Jung-Kook that he finally tears his eyes away from the curtain swaying in the distance, beckoning him backstage.

“Yeah?”

“Dude. You look like a ghost.”

Of course, he does. And it had nothing to do with how close she was from – ugh, _no_. He shakes his head; he can’t fathom it. Now is not the time.

It’s the aftermath of the ordeal that has him sick with worry.   

* * *

 

_Back Stage. II._

  
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

That didn’t just happen.

That didn’t _just_ happen.

The changing room is in a boisterous uproar when they all walk in; Joo-Hyun's in absolute hysterics, running around while asking for a first aid kit. Or at least, a Band-Aid or a dressing of some sort. “Let’s get Ye-Rimmie cleaned up. We only have ten minutes.”

The ever-so-caring Soo-Young wraps a comforting arm around Ye-Rim. While the younger girl won’t admit it, she really could make do with a hug right now. “Oh, our Ye-Rimmie. It’s okay, it’s okay. Does it hurt?”

Ye-Rim squeezes her eyes shut, blinking away the tears. She _really_ wants to cry – and it’s not because of the embarrassment. She knows how this works, and when the fandom got involved, well, things suddenly become much more intense:  The BTS fandom was going to eat her – _them_ – up alive, snapping at them like alligators hungry for revenge. After all that hard work and finally getting somewhere with their achievements, they’re back to square one. Back to the days of Happiness. Ironic:  She’s not feeling it at all.

And it’s all her fault.

Sniffing, she mumbles, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Another hand makes their way in intrusively, ruffling her hair in an attempt to soothe her heart. It’s Seung-Hwan.

“Ah, Ye-Rimmie, don’t cry,” The older girl comforts softly. “You won’t look pretty on camera!”

Her voice is meek, whispering, “I’m so sorry, _unni_.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Seulgi. She’s wetting a spare towel with water, dabbing at the blistered skin daintily. “Instead, I should be the one saying sorry. This might hurt a little.”

“Exactly.” Joo-Hyun chimes in during her ministrations on Ye-Rim's open knee. A little spritz of alcohol to sterilize it, and there. Good as new. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You accidentally tripped.”

Their unwavering support makes her eyes bleary once again. “His fans won’t believe it.”

“Then, they’re idiots,” Soo-Young declares with a pretentious scoff. “Who in their right mind would believe that you deliberately fell into his lap, anyway? It’s not like he’s holding some secret, priceless treasure down there.”

“Soo-Young – “ Seung-Hwan's motherly persona is emerging from the depths, but there’s no stopping the fiery young woman from lashing out when she was furious.

“I’m sorry!” She certainly doesn’t sound apologetic. “But it’s just a _penis_ , okay? There are more important things to get worked up over, Jesus.” 

“Anyway,” Seulgi coughs loudly, reassuring their youngest with a pat on the head and a warm smile. “Don’t be too downtrodden. They’ll understand; we’ll do our best to explain.”

“And if they don’t,” Soo-Young snarls aggressively, cracking her knuckles. “We’ll just _make_ them understand. We won’t let them hurt you.”

Joo-Hyun snips off an excessive piece of the dressing, standing up. Patting Ye-Rim on the shoulder determinedly, she says, “Let’s just do our best as per usual, alright? I know you’re still upset, but please, don’t let it get to you. Ladies? Let’s get going.”

With arms linked with one another in a tight, rigid chain, the quintet emerges from their dressing room in sturdy silence. She’s thankful for the remaining four for keeping her grounded, even when she’s clearly undeserving of it, but their efforts are futile. She’s a jolting mess, jumpy with anxiety – especially since she’s the second one in line to perform her so-called ‘solo dance’ after Seulgi. Ye-Rim doesn’t mind dealing with dead silence and no applause; she’s handled it before during one of their earlier comeback stages when she newly joined the group.

But, if they start jeering, shouting threats – oh, no. This is like that Dumb, Dumb V Live all over again; her complexion pales at the very thought.

“Jung-Kook- _ssh_ i? Why are you – ?”

Ye-Rim's mouth falls wide open into a surprised ‘ _Oh’._

There he is, leaning against one of the banisters in the somewhat empty hallway. He exchanges bows with the rest of them, but there’s no mistaking where – or, in this case, who – his eyes were focused on. “I just want to say something to Ye-Rim, if that’s okay. I won’t keep her.”

Seung-Hwan rubs Ye-Rim at the small of her back. “Don’t be too late, aight?” The sound of heels clack against the marble flooring, leaving behind stale air and two very timid people. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ye-Rim braces herself defensively as Jung-Kook approaches her, worry evidently written all over his face in the form of wrinkles and a clenched jaw. “Jung-Kook- _oppa_.” She speaks first; everything gushing out like water bursting out of a weakened dam. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you like that.”

“ _Aish_. I don’t mind that.” Jung-Kook waves her apology away frantically. “I just had to – um, you know.” The way he says this is so tender; it’s shocking Ye-Rim hasn’t melted yet. “I’m worried.”

“You’re worried about me?” Incredulous, Ye-Rim glances at him – first, into his eyes. Then, her gaze trails downward to his jutting leg. She saw it; she saw him applying ice onto the swelling earlier. “I don’t think you should be saying that. You look like you’re in more pain than me.”

Jung-Kook looks down, laughing bleakly. “I can fake a properly working ankle for ten minutes. Look at yourself.” There’s a thin trickle of dried blood trailing down her calf that Seulgi didn’t wipe up. “You’re the one who’s bleeding.”

“Jung-Kook- _oppa_. I don’t want to be rude, but now is not the time to be comparing our injuries."

“Does it hurt?” He questions, changing the subject abruptly.

“What? The peeling skin? Or the fact that I’ll be slaughtered alive tomorrow?” As much as she tries to contain her worries to herself, it spills out by accident. Sighing, she hangs her head with one hand palming her forehead. “You and I both know the latter is worse.”   

“Ye-Rimmie.” There’s a sense of urgency to his voice, but she doesn’t dare look up. She resists it. “Remember how nonchalant you were with your dating rumours with Tae-Yong- _sshi_? You were the one who taught me to just let them talk. Let them overthink. You clearly didn’t do anything wrong.”

_Yes, but – it's different this time. Because for one, I like you. And two, I’m a bad liar. And three, well, what if you get caught up in this disaster, too?_

But she swallows her words.

“Jung-Kook- _oppa_. I’d like to remind you that while you have a fan base large enough to back you up, I don’t exactly have that.” The bitterness that erupts out of her system and into the open air is evident; Jung-Kook visibly flinches at her snipe, and sudden guilt overtakes her heart. She didn’t mean to snap at him; how could she _ever_?

A pregnant, uncomfortable silence falls between them:  Something that has never happened in all their brief encounters thus far. Ye-Rim's eyes avert downward; Jung-Kook, too. She knows:  Her words were much too harsh for the kind-hearted boy who was merely looking out for her.

“I’m sorry – “

“I really am – “

They both hold their tongues; Jung-Kook gestures for her to continue.

“I have to go,” Ye-Rim states, glancing at the wall clock ticking away at the end of the hall. “I know SM will issue a formal statement sometime tomorrow; you won’t suffer too much backlash from the situation. Hopefully, I don’t, either. But there’s no guarantee. Anyway, I’ll see you – “

“Wait.”

Jung-Kook captures her limp wrist just before she can rush off, unmistakably giving her a hard yank. The next second, she falls into his open arms, and her heart is beating thunderously against her ribcage. Can he hear it? Or maybe, his is doing the same thing, too? How silly, almost bordering on absurd:  If she were rational, she would’ve told him off.

But she can’t. He feels too right in her arms.  

“Ye-Rimmie. I’m sorry.”

He’s apologizing. Yet again. Why does he keep doing that? She’s about to raise her arm to hit him around the head but decides against it. After all, being wrapped up in his embrace is infinitely better. “Again, Kookie- _oppa_ , you’re not the one who fell. If anything, blame the shoes,” She counters, stiffly at first but then she ends up snuggling her face deeper into his chest. “Please stop apologizing.” 

“Not for that. I’m not performing my boyfriend duties very well if I can’t protect my girlfriend.”

Wait. **_What?_** Her heart’s doing somersaults now. Attempting to regain her composure, she stammers, “Did - did I hear you correctly?”

A coy smile plays on his lips for a fleeting moment before they open up to say, “I don’t like repeating myself.” 

* * *

 

_RBB/IDOL._

_  
“Bad boy, bad boy. Alright; 1, 2, 5!”_

Their stylists are atwitter when the septet enter the changing room for costume changes and further make-up touch-ups, but the words exchanged between the gossipy women weren’t exactly the...nicest.

“Did you see the way she practically jumped on him like that?”

“Oh, yes, I did,” The redhead clucks her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Absolutely dreadful.”

“She should learn to keep her hands to herself – “

“Just a clarification,” Jung-Kook retorts sharply – so sharp, his own make-up artist dropped her brush onto the ground. “She never jumped on me.”

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Ho-Seok says, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “She’s doing fine.” Indeed, when Jung-Kook swiveled around in his chair to watch the plasma screen attached to the wall, she looked – _fine_. Ye-Rim didn’t seem the least bit phased, moving fluidly with the rhythmic snare and the jazzy rift, but Jung-Kook presumes she’s just professional enough to do an about-face for the cameras.

“I must admit,” Yoongi comments from the sofa. “The crowd didn’t cheer as much though.”

“That’s expected,” Jung-Kook grimaces. At least it didn’t get any worse than that.

“Plus, is it just me?” Nam-Joon questions. “Or is the dancing forcing her wound open again?”  

“It’s the impact, _hyung_ ,” The youngest explains with tense brows. A brief close-up on Ye-Rim's body is proof enough of this; the gauze is staining crimson-red. “The impact is what matters.”

Next time, he’ll be prepared. Next time, he'll remember to carry some Pikachu-patterned bandages in his wallet and shout out a warning before she gets her laces caught.

Next time, he'll be there to hold her hand steadily. 

* * *

 

 _“I’m so fine wherever I go._ ”

It takes some pushy persuasion (From Soo-Young, obviously) and gentle prodding (Seulrene, who else?), but eventually, Ye-Rim agrees to join the other idols to watch the finale. 

“And walk with your head held high, Rim,” Soo-Young cried earlier, slapping her on the back to keep her posture upright. “You have nothing to fear! Why should you be forced to hide in the back?”

It was terribly uncomfortable for the younger girl, however, when she silently followed Joo-Hyun back to their table. Even with the crowd mesmerized by chants of ‘ _You can’t stop me loving myself_ ’ piercing through the air, she feels numerous daggers boring painfully into her shoulders.

Suffice to say, it’s not pleasant.

But then, she sees Jeon Jung-Kook. Jeon Jung-Kook, and that oversized polo shirt, alternating in thick stripes of yellow and evergreen. There’s no denying the fact that she’s still in deep shit, but somehow – in some strange mystical way – the ominous worries plaguing her heart seem to be fading, little by little.

 _“I’m not performing my boyfriend duties very well if I can’t protect my girlfriend.”_     

Because she’s certain now. No more questioning.

Is it selfish of her to wish for a chance to relive his indirect confession in her dreams?  

* * *

 

_After the Show – V Live._

_From:  JJK_  
_Sent At:  9:58 PM_

_Hey. Tune into V App. I’m hosting a live in like two minutes._

_From: KYR_  
_Sent at: 9:59 PM_  
  
_K._

“Ah, hello!” A hearty, cheerful wave. Bunny teeth showing, accompanied with that dimple that loved to make a rare appearance every now and then. He’s wearing that Off-White hoodie he loves oh-so-much; Ye-Rim contemplates buying the same one. “Wah, it’s been such a long time, hasn’t it? Are there people joining yet?” His eyes squint for a better view of the tiny font, only to widen when the flood of messages flies across the screen.

“Get some reading glasses, won’t you? Hey, my eyesight isn’t as bad as you might think! Nonetheless, welcome, welcome.”

He talks a little about this and that while digging a pair of wooden chopsticks into a plastic container full of _jjajangmyeon:_ Their tour, upcoming comeback spoilers while running a hand through his hair, letting it spread. News about BT21 merchandise. Consoling viewers with advice on first loves and trivial matters and what not. No wonder they call him ‘boyfriend goals’.

“Ah, yes. So, today, we attended the Seoul Music Awards. Did you guys tune in? Did you? I just wanted to say thank-you so much for all the support! We went home with lots of awards, but really, all of it comes down to you. ARMYs, thank-you for working so hard.” They all deserve credit, really.

And then, the interrogative questions start to hit.

“Uh, let’s see. Oh, is _oppa_ okay? _Yah, yah_. Are you even young enough to call me that?!” Ye-Rim chuckles, knowing full-well it was a major pet-peeve of his. “You all noticed, hmm? _Yah_ , Naver’s gone fanatical with all the gifs and screenshots. I’m trending – and so is Ye-Rim- _sshi_!”

“She looks cute when she’s bemused? Eh.” A shrug, then a teasing scoff. “Perhaps – “

A vicious hiss escapes the back of her throat like a boiling kettle. “How fucking _dare_ you.”

“That’s my power, though. The power of Jeon Jung-Kook is that I’m so incredibly charming that even my fellow singers are starting to collapse in my presence.”

Not that he’s lying, though.

“Now, before I say anything else." His curved lips thin into a somewhat strict frown - something Ye-Rim has never witnessed before. "I just want to inform everyone not to jump to conclusions and over-flood their page with hate. I can tell you right now, there actually _was_ a raised bump on the floor. I saw it. She just happened to trip, and of course, I helped her get up. That's all there is to it." With his eyes flashing somewhat dangerously towards the viewers, he warns, "Don’t send unnecessarily mean messages to people who don’t deserve it. In Ye-Rim- _sshi_ 's case, it’s not warranted whatsoever. And I don’t want ARMYs to behave so uncivilly. Do the right thing, alright?”

Don't get Ye-Rim wrong; she's still not exactly cleared of all suspicion just yet. But nonetheless, she appreciates his gesture - especially considering that he shouldn't even be hosting surprise V-Lives in the first place. With her heart sinking into the depths of her stomach, she questions whether he was going to get into trouble for this. Good Lord, that was the last thing she needed.

“Ahhh, I still have so many messages to scroll through," Jung-Kook says suddenly, returning to his jovial self within seconds. "Shout-out to Malaysia, yeah. And to Singapore. And uh, wait, hold on. Did you _really_ just say you want to take her place so that you can legitimately fall for _oppa_? Not. A. Chance.”

 _From:  KYR_  
_Sent At: 10:59 PM_

_You’re crazy. Why the hell are you so crazy?_

_From: JJK_  
_Sent At: 11:02 PM_

_I told you. I’d fix it._

_From: KYR_  
_Sent At: 11:05 PM_

_You did. At least, you stamped out the fire for the time being. You really didn’t have to. You're going to get in trouble, though._

_From: JJK_  
_Sent At:  11:12 PM_

_Trust me. I won't. Let’s talk for a little bit. Get your coat ready._

_From: KYR_  
_Sent At: 11:13 PM_

_Now?!_

_From: JJK_  
_Sent At:  11:15 PM_

_Yes. Now. At the regular spot, okay?_

* * *

 

_Midnight._

  
A night off from everything:  No flights to be rushed to, no choreography practice, no recording sessions. Just the two of them, wrapped in puffy jackets, mufflers with cartons of banana milk and two bowls of steaming-hot _ramen_ in their hands. They’re sitting on a park bench, side by side, overlooking the Han River – she in a ruddy old pair of Nikes, he in his trademark Timberlands.

Let’s just say, hypothetically, if she never made a fool of herself at the SMAs, would this – their calves touching, hands millimeters apart – still be happening? She surmises a half-hearted maybe, but that just puts her in an even fouler mood – even though she _should_ be happy that he’s spending his limited free time with her.

Ye-Rim breaks the silence first, playing with a piece of frayed thread on her mittens. “Well, this is a rather cozy place to hang out.”

Jung-Kook nudges her foot playfully. “ _Yah_. I caught that.”

“It’s not intended to be a sarcastic comment.”

“Mmhmm?” Drat; he’s not convinced. “Try me.” 

She doesn’t.

“Hey,” Ye-Rim begins slowly, twiddling her thumbs together. “Can I ask you something, Jung-Kook- _oppa_?”

The moon is illuminating brightly tonight, the yellowish beam highlighting the angular curvature in his jawline and the sharp peak of his nose bridge; it leaves her breathless when he turns towards her slightly with a smile on his face.

“Not before I ask you something first.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Ye-Rim says, drumming her mitten-clad fingers against her cheek. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s been three hours now.”

“Ever so sharp,” He compliments with a gentle tap against her forehead. “I’m glad to hear.” The bandages he brought with him, hiding in the depths of his pockets, were for naught, then.

“But, still. You didn’t have to.”

“And yet,” Jung-Kook says wistfully. “I did.” He pauses to look over the quaint river before continuing, “Because like I said, if I were to be your boyfriend, that’s what I need to do.”

“ _Oppa_ , I – “

Jung-Kook's tested the waters tentatively for the past ten minutes with occasional bumps of the hand. And finally, after mentally preparing himself for whatever reaction he would face from her, he interlaces his fingers in between Ye-Rim's.

"Sorry to keep you waiting for so long, Rim," He says shyly. She feels a heart attack coming. "But trust me." Jung-Kook squeezes her cheek, watching her reaction adoringly. "This is only the tip of the iceberg. I'll do better to keep you out of harm's way."

Her hold is weak; she doesn’t bother resisting. And his heart is soaring, higher than ever, alight with pleasure. Albeit, he really did wish to feel her skin against his and not angora wool – but this was just as nice, too. 

Ye-Rim struggles a bashful cough. They’re holding hands. They’re _really_ holding hands. My God. Amongst the hundreds of Korean dramas she’s binge-watched in the past, where she’s watched the two leads shyly (Heart-wrenchingly so) confess their feelings for one another, she has to admit:  The real thing is just so much better than the vivid imagery painted on T.V.

“You have to admit,” She finally chokes out. “This is a rather – peculiar way of asking me to be your girlfriend.”

“What were you expecting?” He shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “Park Seo-Joon in Fight My Way? Or Mr. Perfect, Yoon Shi-Jin from DoTS, huh?”

Ye-Rim prefers the former, but she bites her tongue. Seeing him so riled up over fictitious characters was probably going to be her second most favourite expression on him – a genuine, energetic smile always took first place. No questions asked.

“If you really wanted, I could make it all romantic and sappy,” Jung-Kook adds. “But then I decided, to hell with it.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I think having you physically _fall_ for me – well,” He doesn’t bother hiding his wicked snigger. “That was just the perfect icing on the cake.”

“Bastard.” 

While Jung-Kook did debate about properly popping the question of whether she was willing to be his girlfriend or not, the question he intended to ask slips from his mind altogether.

In place, he ends up saying with all the affection in the world (A little dramatized, but let the girl live!), “Thanks for falling for me.”

Yeah, it’s a bit weird. And yeah, Soo-Young might make a formal complaint, saying that his heartfelt confession wasn’t romantic enough. But hey, Ye-Rim isn’t complaining:  Whatever it took to call Jeon Jung-Kook hers. She’ll take what she can get.

“For you, or _on_ you? These are two very separate things.”

But after watching that mischievous flash sparkle in his eyes, Ye-Rim already has an idea of what he’s going to say.

“Best of both worlds, Rim. Best of both worlds.”

* * *

 

 _One o'clock._  
  
  
“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Second question. Did you even ** _like_** our song?”

“Let’s...not talk about that right – **_OW_**!”

“It’s a no, then!”

“I liked So Good, though.”

“...”

“And Taste.”

“...”

“...And Sassy Me.”

“...”

“And Butterflies, too, okay? Cut me some slack.”

“Fine.”

“...Are you upset?”

“Just as an FYI, I didn’t really like IDOL much.”

“You kept dancing to it, though, during our encore. Don’t lie. I saw you with my own two eyes.”

“Stop stalking me, you creep!”

“I can’t help it. I guess, I like you just a little too much.”


End file.
